Hiding in the Wardrobe
by Quirky Del
Summary: A night with Richard Vernon. ONE SHOT


**Author's Note – Hey! I was reading Twbasketcase's and MidnightBlue88's ideas for one shots discussion and it was enough to give fruit to an idea that I've had brewing in the back of my cluttered mind for awhile. I thought it'd be a nice little challenge/exercise for me, so here it is.**

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He hated his life.

Well, that's not entirely true. There was one thing that made everything seem a little bit better. He'd deny it if anyone ever asked. He took careful pains to keep it a secret – at least he thought he did. He tried not to let it rile him too much when that little shit Bender got a littler too close to the truth that morning. He wasn't about to let that smug punk know that he had hit a nerve.

_"Does Barry Manilow know that you raid his wardrobe?"_

His cocky voice grated in his ears as his mind replayed the words. What the hell did a loser like Bender know, anyway? All that self absorbed prick probably cared about was his drugs. Everyone else could fuck off as long as he had his dope in his pocket. What did he know about losing someone?

He glanced down and frowned. His beer was getting low. He knew he should have grabbed two cans out of the fridge before sitting down. He took the last drink before letting the empty can fall to the hard floor carelessly. He watched it roll a couple of inches, clanking across the flooring lazily. His brows furrowed with the memory of tearing out the carpet years ago only to replace it with the even more tedious task of laying down the boards in it's place. Not to mention how long he had to save to be able to afford it in the first place; hardwood floors did not come without a cost, and if he was going to do it at all, then he was going to go for the best. Polishing and maintaining the warm glow of the oak was a fastidious task, but it was worth it. He had never cared how shiny the damn floor was, but it always made _her_ happy and that was all that had mattered to him. But that was a long time ago.

A thin film of dust now adorned the once prized hardwood. He rubbed his feet over the smooth surface, his socks gliding merrily for a few seconds before abruptly halting their caress, as the clock began to chime...

It was time.

It was seven o'clock.

He groaned slightly as he stood up from his comfortable chair, taking the few steps over to the battered old stereo. His fingers brushed over a column of records, instantly retrieving the desired one, having played this routine countless times before.

The needle was lowered, the scratches soothing him as he slumped his tired bones back into the chair, closing his eyes as he waited. The string and piano sounds filled the room, permeating all of his senses, encompassing his mind in the velvet splendor that he's grown to depend on. His head rolled back to rest against the top of the chair as his body relaxed for the first time all day; ready for his thoughts to carry him back...

--

There had been a chill in the air that night, and he grumbled outside the door of the dingy bar; it was the kind of joint that didn't have live music, the entertainment consisting of a cheap DJ instead. He cursed himself for caving in and telling his friend that he would meet him there; why couldn't he have just said no and stayed at home watching football like he had originally planned? He knew the answer to that – anyone that he could actually call a 'friend' were few and far between, so when Doug invited him out somewhere he accepted. Though, he was regretting it now, seeing as how Doug was going on an hour late already; meet him at six o'clock, he had said, and if it the place was a bust they'd still have time to go somewhere else. He looked up into the night sky as he felt a few stray drops of rain falling into his premature graying hair and he exhaled deeply as he entered the dim building.

A quick scan around the open room showed that his friend wasn't waiting in here either and he was about to turn out and call it a night when something caught his eye; or rather, someone. She was gorgeous. And she was smiling at _him_. He turned around to see if there was someone else standing behind him, thinking he couldn't be that lucky, but there was only the door. He looked back around only to see her giggling at his self conscious behaviour and he thought her smile was lovely. Clearing his throat loudly and building his nerve he walked toward her and introduced himself in what he considered his sexiest voice. She battled her lashes as she repeated his name and he had never heard it sound sweeter; he usually hated it when people called him 'Rich' preferring the full Richard, but it was different when she said it.

She told him her name was Amanda and then she asked who he was looking for when he first came inside and when he explained about being roped into meeting up with his friend she coyly replied that since it was now turning seven he probably wouldn't show and asked if he would care to dance with her instead. They moved to the area used as a dance floor and the song changed to a slow one that caused her to laugh lightly, but he didn't recognize it. She tossed her feathered blond hair over her shoulder as she told him it was the new Barry Manilow song, 'This One's For You'. She laughingly said that she hoped it wasn't a bad omen to be having their first dance to such a depressing song but he only shrugged saying that he wasn't superstitious, a wide grin stretching his face.

--

"This one's for you and all the love we once knew..." Barry's voice faded with the end of the song and Vernon fluttered his lids open, snapping himself out of his memories. The room was quiet again and he was forced back into his lonely reality. Here he was, spending another Saturday night the same as every other night – wallowing. Only this particular Saturday was worse than the others usually were; he had to spend the entire day putting up with those stupid little shits, with Bender as their ringleader to top it all off. He was tired of getting stuck with the babysitting shifts, particularly the Saturday detentions. He was tired of coming home afterward to nothing. He was tired of having to remember why he came home to nothing and no one – because he was the one who had thrown it all away in the first place...

--

He had fucked up, she had caught him with his co-worker one horrible afternoon. He should have just said no, after all he was happy with Amanda and they had been together for two years by then; they had only moved in together four months before that. But he was only a man after all and there was only so much one could take before giving in; at least that was his excuse. He had been so good at resisting the temptations that his fellow teacher, Sandra, had laid in front of him every day at work; the way she always wore those low cut tops around him and made sure that the hem of her skirt was always at least an inch or two too short. After months of her teasing him he finally called her on it and they ended up at his place only a few blocks away from the school, it was their lunch break so they both had an hour before they had to be back at classes. He thought if he could sleep with her just that one time he could get her out of his system and not be hot and bothered again over the whole thing – Amanda need never know. She would be at work until 5, she never came home during lunch because she always grabbed something at her office; well, how was Richard to know that 'never' ended that day when she came home to grab a lunch that she had packed for the two of them, she was going to bring it to the school to surprise him...it turned out that she was the one who got the surprise. He would never, _ever_ forget the pitch of her horrified scream or the look on her face when he craned his neck back and saw her transfixed in the doorway. He had scrambled up and ran to her trying to explain but it was too late – everything was over.

Within the day she had packed a few of her things and moved back in with her old roommate. He called her every morning, afternoon, and night but she never answered. At first her roommate would lie and say that she wasn't there but after awhile she simply said that he should stop calling because it was over and he needed to get on with his life. He had taken to spending many nights drinking and lamenting to his friend Doug. It's funny that he hadn't picked up on Doug's strange behaviour then. The first few nights after she had left him Doug had played the perfect part, comforting his buddy and giving him the old 'plenty of fish left in the sea' bit. After a week or so, Doug had seemed reluctant to talk about it, hell he had been reluctant to even speak to him at all about anything. Richard didn't pay much heed to it, he was still too busy being stuck in his own downward spiral to notice that anything may have been off. He was forced to face it a couple of weeks later when it stared him straight in the face. He had been walking down the street when the most hideous sight that he had ever seen slammed into him, making him want to retch – there was Doug, laughing, flirting, and holding hands with _Richard's_ girlfriend – _ex-girlfriend_, that is. _His _Amanda was standing there with the one person that Richard confided in – the one person that he truly considered a friend. He felt his entire world collapsing around him as he quickly ran into the nearest public restroom he could find, spilling his stomach into the porcelain bowl. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly but forced them open again instantly because all he could see on the backs of his lids was that disgusting scene of the two of them standing on the street together. How could Doug do that to him? To his own friend?

--

Richard broke out of his bitter musings as he realized what song was now playing – 'Mandy'. He had sung that to Amanda the first night that she spent with him. He remembered the pleased flush that had covered her face even though he knew he was terribly off key. It had done the trick, nonetheless, that girl always was a sucker for any Barry Manilow song. She had even slowly turned Richard's dress sense toward what she called 'the Barry look'. After she had left he thought about going back to his old fashions, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He fooled himself into thinking that if he didn't change too much, it would be like she was still with him. He sighed. Maybe listening to Barry every night wasn't such a good idea.

He mustered up enough energy to stand back up and shut the damn record off before he started bawling like a baby again. He had taken all he could stand for the night. He flipped the light switch off and made his way to the bedroom, but he made a detour to the kitchen first so that he could grab the remaining beer cans to bring with him. Just another night in the exciting life of Richard Vernon, he thought ruefully as he flopped himself down on his bedspread. He deposited the beer on the nightstand next to him, keeping one to open now. He cursed as the fizz bubbled over and out, pooling on the flannel spread. Yeah, it was just another night.

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**Well, there it is. I'm not too sure about it, I would love to hear some input. Good, bad, I'd just appreciate some feedback – oy, but no Barry bashing...heehee, unless you're Judd Nelson, then you can say just about anything cuz you're so gosh darn dreamy...ah. Oh, sorry. Anyway, yes I'd love a review – by the way, this was supposed to be a bit tongue in cheek with all of the Manilow stuff...heehee. I couldn't resist – and yes, I know I used the 'd' word a lot (ssh, _damn_) but it seems to be about Vernon's favourite word so I thought that it would appropriate. Thanks!**


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